Both the gru’ul’s message and the Tribunal’s declaration had freaked the team out, much like the rest of the planet. It was only when Adrian was ordered to board the ship and make haste to a protected military compound that he knew it had to do with him.

  No longer wary of giving away the safe house’s location given the gru’ul attack, Tassie pushed the ship to arrive at their designated coordinates as quickly as possible. The trip, however, was not instantaneous, leaving Reya and Adrian plenty of time to discuss recent events in one of the ship’s cabins.

  “They’re coming for me, aren’t they?” Adrian asked, fear lacing his voice. “I thought I was safe here.” He was seated on a cot next to Reya, who was holding a data slate. The Tribunal’s announcement had left everybody stunned, and Reya wasn’t a fan that she’d been brought up during it without her input.

  Reya set down the data slate on the bed next to her and collected Adrian into a warm, gentle hug. It wasn’t much, she knew, but it was the most she could give to reassure him apart from empty words. “We don’t know that,” she tried to say reassuringly. “General Nessah could simply be having us relocated because the safe house offers little in the way of protection given how isolated it is.”

  Adrian shook his head. “We both know that’s not true,” he said. “The gru’ul even left that cryptic message. Let’s face it, we’re the only ones they know about. They have no business with the average person.”

  Reya chewed on her lip, trying to find the right words when she knew that Adrian was right. Before she could speak, Kell’s voice rang out over her comms. “Reya, Adrian,” Kell said, “turn on the news, now. You need to see this.”

  “What happened Kell?” Reya asked, worried.

  “Your mother,” Kell replied. “She’s released a manifesto against the Tribunal. Go to any prominent news site to find it. Everybody seems to be reporting on it as we speak. I have no idea how she managed this, but things are about to get ugly if people believe her.”

  Hurriedly, Reya brought up the first news site she could think of on her data slate. Sure enough, there was a live report happening involving a video that was spreading like wildfire over the various social networks. She quickly pressed play and Mihn’s figure appeared onscreen.

  “Lies,” Mihn said venomously onscreen. “Our Tribunal has brought death upon us and rather than tell us the truth, they lie to us once more. The gods cannot be defiled by their words any longer! To even think of comparing them to the monstrosities that seek to kill us all is an insult so grave I am at a loss for words.

  “They botched first contact protocols,” she continued. “They kept the existence of the such a vile chemical from us. What other secrets do they hide still? Instead, they attempt to upheave our society so that we fight their dirty war for them. So that we bleed and die for them. And what do we get in return? Uncountable deaths.

  “Your family,” Mihn said, “your friends, and even your children. No one shall be spared from the gru’ul’s wrath. We all know how much more technologically advanced they are than us. Fighting them is suicide.

  “Our filthy Tribunal has condemned us all. If we somehow survive this gru’ul onslaught, our gods will surely turn their backs on us. And what does that make us faithful who remain on this forsaken planet? Damned, that’s what! In their anger, the gods will not spare anybody in this faction for our sins.

  “Fight back!” she yelled passionately. “Deny their tyranny. The Tribunal clearly no longer represents the will of the people. They can’t keep us safe. They are the reason your lives will be torn apart. Do not listen to their blasphemous words any longer, for we know them to be false. Alone, we will be suppressed. Together, we can overthrow them.

  “Resist, my brothers and sisters. Do not let them win.”

  The video ended, but the powerful message remained. Reya and Adrian were too stunned to properly listen the reporters discussing Mihn’s display against the Tribunal. Snippets discussing treason and dissidence fell on deaf ears.

  “That fucking bitch just doomed us all,” Reya said, aghast. She could hardly believe that her mother would attempt to cause division at such a critical moment in history. She snapped back to reality and listened closely to what the reporters were saying. Their discussion didn’t bode well for the military, for they hinted that they were in agreement with Mihn’s terrible message.

  Quickly, Reya went online and researched what people were saying. The topic was a hot debate wherever she looked. Reya didn’t know how, but her mother had indeed managed worm her way into the spotlight once more.

  Adrian read over her shoulder and let out a low whistle. “People are really upset,” he said. “Do you think what the Tribunal said is true?” he asked. “That humans and the a’vaare are just one big experiment?”

  “I don’t know,” Reya admitted. “For a long time, it’s bothered me just how similar you and Stanley were to us a’vaare. It was hard to believe that our species could evolve to resemble each other so much. When Kell confirmed that Stanley was of a different species, I accepted the news along with everybody else. But this?” she said in disbelief. “If the Tribunal is to be believed, there was nothing natural about our evolution to begin with. And yet, it perfectly explains all of the parts that never made any sense.”

  “It’s a hard pill to swallow,” Adrian agreed. “But it makes sense, in a twisted way. Which matches perfectly with how twisted the gru’ul truly are. I always wondered why they bothered to teach me your language at all. My best guess is that they already had contact with your species and begrudgingly developed a way to translate it out of necessity. Earth has an abundance of different languages. Given that there was no hint of life outside of our solar system, I’d be willing to bet they couldn’t be bothered to learn every single one of our languages when they had Ava already on the ground doing their work for them.”

  Reya blinked. “You really think so?” she asked. “I guess it makes sense, but I’m not sure.” Another ping on her comms interrupted their discussion. It was Jyn, calling everybody to the bridge. Given that the team was already at their stations, he was really asking her, Adrian and Ava to join them as soon as possible.

  The couple left the room they were in and made their way to where the others were. They entered the bridge and were immediately struck by the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room. They made their way over to Rann and Beor, to where Reya’s old station was. Reya took a seat and Adrian remained standing. Ava joined shortly after and stood awkwardly to the side.

  After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Jyn spoke up. “By now you’ve all heard the Tribunal’s recent edict,” he said. “I understand that you might be angry and confused by what was said. We might not be the most religious, but in light of what was revealed, even the most atheist of us find it hard to accept.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  The crew remained silent as Jyn spoke. Tassie gave him a long, searching look, noticing that Jyn didn’t appear as shocked as the others. Almost as though he’d been expecting the news. The realization hit her suddenly. “You already knew,” she accused. “That’s why you’re taking the news so well.”

  Jyn hesitated but ultimately nodded. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’ve known for quite some time now.”

  Ava wisely remained silent.

  “And you kept something so important from us?” Tassie exclaimed. “How could you? Have you no trust in us?” She thought further about his reactions to recent events, and it clicked. “Since when have you known?” She suspected that when they’d received the orders to eliminate the diplomatic envoy and take the Rukkan’s High Diplomat hostage, Jyn had already been aware. He’d mentioned his security clearance had been upgraded and that there were things not even she knew, despite how involved she was in the Tribunal’s research into the facility.

  “Since before High Diplomat Annkor arrived to Verilia to meet with Adrian,” Jyn said, knowing full-well that there would be heavy backlash to him having kept such an important secret from them.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Rann asked, speaking up. She was unable to keep the hurt from her voice. “Multiple times, Jyn had been absent on the ship for extended periods of time, sometimes coming back acting different. He’d tried to hide it and sweep it under the rug, but Rann wasn’t a fool.

  “How do you tell somebody their entire life has been a lie?” Jyn said. “I already had a hard enough time coming to terms with the truth when the General told me. In the span of one conversation, my entire life and beliefs were upheaved forever. I was hurt. I was confused. And I didn’t want to inflict such feelings on any of you.”

  “So instead you kept life-changing secrets from us?” Tassie accused. “That’s rich,” she scoffed. “After all the times you accused Adrian of keeping vital information from us, you went and did the same thing but with something even more important.”

  Jyn winced. “I know,” he said. “But how do you tell someone tha—”

  “Was it even classified to us?” Rann interjected. “Or did you just keep it from us to spare our feelings? Wouldn’t it be important for us to know something that vital to our mission in order to better protect Reya and Adrian?”

  “Technically, no,” Jyn forced out.

  “What the fuck, Jyn?” Rann exclaimed, outraged. “You kept that from us on purpose for so long? Is High Command aware that you failed to disclose that information to us?”

  “I was told to tell you at my discretion when I thought the time was right,” Jyn replied calmly. Inwardly, it hurt seeing the anger and betrayal on his team’s faces. He knew he hadn’t been a shining paragon of a Captain as of late. For all of his faults, he’d done what he’d thought was best for the mission, even if that meant being despised by his team. Yet now, he felt an irreparable crack in their trust in him. Where before he might have been able to redeem himself, now he knew he might never.

  “And so instead you just kept us in the dark regarding the actual truth behind the facility?” Tassie said rudely.

  “Adrian has told us many times that he didn’t want to know the truth of what happened to him,” Jyn said. “Had I told you, he would have inevitably found out. On top of that, I needed you all ready to prepare for the upcoming war with clear heads. I wasn’t expecting the Tribunal to reveal the news to the populace at large right at this moment.”

  “Since when do you care about how Adrian feels?” Reya said, offended that they’d be given such a flimsy excuse from Jyn justifying his actions.

  “I’m not a monster,” Jyn said. “I know I haven’t been reasonable to some of you as of late. In light of what I’ve learned, I feel horrible about it. But at the time, I did what I thought was best in the face of the unknown we were thrust into. I had to think about more than feelings as your Captain. Even then, you refused to follow basic patrol orders to ensure no harm would befall our charges. You wanted time off to go swimming when we could’ve been stormed at any moment by enemies.”

  The team couldn’t meet Jyn’s pointed stare as he looked each of them in the eyes. The only one who maintained eye contact was Adrian, and he was furious. “What was best included starving me?” Adrian said hotly. “It included imprisoning me when I did nothing wrong? Hounding me for information when I was vulnerable? Not respecting my wishes?”

  Jyn held Adrian’s gaze. “Some of the things I did were plain wrong,” he said, not breaking eye contact. “The ones you’ve listed are among them. I’m not perfect. I hurt you when you needed the time to recover from your ordeal. For how I’ve wronged you, I’m sorry. It wasn’t fair of me to project my insecurities on you the way I did and punish you for learning to live again after what you went through.” Jyn looked around towards the others. “I’m also sorry for how I’ve acted and treated the rest of you since the mission began. It wasn’t right of me to do so.”

  The room was stunned silent. After so long, Jyn had openly apologized for his actions. Everybody had been waiting for the day to come where Jyn would realize he’d been in the wrong, yet given what they’d just learned, it rang hollow. As though it were an afterthought in order to maintain morale. “Why now?” Adrian asked. “Why should we accept your apologies after all the shit you’ve done?”

  Jyn shook his head. “I don’t expect you to accept them, but they were long overdue. It took me a long time to realize I was in the wrong and even longer to admit it to myself. In light of what I learned, all my arguments and actions felt so petty for nothing. Right now, we’re in a war for our species’ survival. We face utter annihilation, and the thought of not apologizing feels wrong to me. We may die at any point once the fighting reaches Verilia or if we’re called to the front lines in space. I don’t want to die holding all of that in. I don’t want you all to die and have your last thoughts of me be poisoned with hatred.”

  Adrian was at a loss for words. Though Jyn’s apology might have been given due to the selfish motivation of wanting to be seen in a positive light before the fighting happened, it was still heartfelt, nonetheless. “I can’t say I accept your apology right now,” Adrian said. “but know that it’s been heard.”

  “Thank you,” Jyn said. And he meant it. “Soon we will arrive at our destination. Reya’s mother’s video is an unfortunate complication that may result in some of the soldiers being hostile towards us. We don’t know how the people will react at the moment. Here’s what we need to do when we arrive.”

  Jyn laid out his orders, for once having Adrian’s best interest wholeheartedly in mind.

  The Highest shrieked in annoyance. The second wave would soon be upon the experiments, but they had somehow yet to capitulate to the first wave, which had sustained heavy losses. They had yet to destroy the motherships sent alongside the wave, unable to penetrate its defenses.

  To add insult to injury, the experiments had created a disgustingly powerful planetary defense system. The Highest’s probes were done their preliminary assessments, the results angering it immensely. The experiments piggybacked off of marvelous gru’ul technological advancements and twisted them into some perverse form of shields that were better than the ones the gru’ul had on their ships.

  That didn’t make their shield any less effective, just that they would lose a stalemate simply due to their inability to pierce the planetary defenses. The situation baffled the Highest, as it knew there was no way the experiments should have been able to learn so much of their technology, let alone improve it.

  The Highest touched one of the command buttons floating to the side and a new screen winked into existence in front of it. It clicked erratically, deep in thought. It eventually came to the conclusion that the best way to punish the experiments for their rebellion against their true nature before eradicating them was to overwhelm them with troops.

  The Highest ran many calculations and simulations, until at last it reached a solution on how best to approach the situation. It concluded that the best way to make the experiments suffer was to weaken the planetary shields with a concerted attack consisting each mothership launching its planet destroying weapon. Under such heavy bombardment, if the planetary shields were hit from three of its weak points at the same time, holes would appear throughout the shields, allowing troops to descend onto the ground. Then, it would be able to douse the populace in the orange chemical before killing them. The ultimate sufferance for their rebellious nature.

  The only caveat was that the weapons would take months to charge once more, and while the Highest could send in more motherships to ensure the shields remained weak, it would have to be strategic when launching the attacks.

  Ultimately, it decided to launch its bombardment just before the second wave arrived. Though there may be heavy losses in order to get the motherships into position, that was a sacrifice the Highest was willing to make.

  It gave the orders and remained vigilant as its plans were carried out.